Gabriel's Inferno Trilogy

  Nestled in a shoebox next to the dress she discovered a pair of black patent leather Christian Louboutins. She looked incredulously at the red soles and the very high heels. The shoes had a pretty velvet bow on each toe, and Julia knew that they were probably worth about a month’s rent, at least. Tucked into the corner of the box, almost as an afterthought, was a small beaded handbag.

  Julia felt momentarily like Cinderella.

  “Do you like everything? The sales clerk put it all together. I just asked to look at purple dresses.” Julia could hear Rachel’s hesitance over the phone.

  “It’s beautiful, Rachel. All of it. Wait a minute, how did you know what sizes to buy?”

  “I didn’t. You looked as if you were the same size as you were in college, but I had to guess. So you’ll have to try the dress on and see if it fits.”

  “But it’s too much. The shoes alone…I just can’t…”

  “Julia, please. I’m so glad we’re friends again. Apart from running into you and being able to get close to Gabriel, nothing good has happened to me since my mom got sick. Please, don’t take this away from me too.”

  Rachel really knows how to lay on a guilt trip.

  Julia inhaled slowly. “I don’t know…”

  “It’s not my money. It’s family money. Since Mom died…” Rachel trailed off, hoping that her friend would derive her own (erroneous) conclusion.

  And that’s exactly what Julia did. “Your mom would have wanted you to spend her money on yourself.”

  “She wanted everyone she loved to be happy, and that included you. And she didn’t have much of a chance to spoil you after…after what happened. I’m sure she knows we’re talking again and she’s smiling down on us. Make her happy for me, Julia.”

  Now she felt tears pricking at the back of her eyes. And Rachel felt guilty for being so manipulative. Gabriel felt neither tears nor guilt and wished that the two girls would settle things already so that he could use his own damn telephone to make a call.

  “Could I pay for part of it? Could I pay for the shoes—over time?”

  Gabriel must have heard Julia, because she could hear his cursings and loud protestations in the background. He was muttering something about a mouse and a church. Whatever that meant.

  “Gabriel! Let me handle this,” said Rachel.

  Julia could hear bits and pieces of an argument that was brewing between the two siblings.

  “If that’s what you want, that’s fine. (Gabriel, stop it.) But it’s our last night out together, and I want you to come with us. So wear it and join us, and we’ll work the money out later. Much later. Like when I’m back in Philadelphia. And living on social security.”

  Julia sighed deeply and offered a silent prayer of thanks to Grace, who had always been good to her. “Thanks, Rachel. I owe you one. Again.”

  Rachel squealed. “Gabriel! Julia is coming too!”

  Julia held the phone away from her ear so she couldn’t hear her friend shrieking.

  “Be ready around nine—we’ll pick you up at your place. Gabriel says he knows how to get there.”

  “That’s pretty late, are you sure?’

  “Please! Gabriel chose the club, and he says it doesn’t even open until nine. We’re going to be early as it is. Just spend some time getting ready, and we’ll see you tonight. You’re going to look hot!”

  And with that Julia ended her phone call and began to admire her beautiful new dress. Rachel shared her mother’s generous and charitable spirit. It was too bad some of that spirit hadn’t rubbed off on Gabriel…

  She wondered how she was ever going to be able to dance in those sexy and dangerous shoes. She contemplated the exciting and slightly frightening prospect of dancing with a certain Professor.

  But Rachel said he doesn’t dance. Figures.

  In a fit of inspiration, Julia walked over to her dresser and cautiously opened her underwear drawer. Without looking at the photograph that was hidden at the back, she quickly withdrew a small and sexy string of cloth that could charitably be termed underwear if and only if one thought that anything worn underneath one’s clothes counted as underwear.

  Julia held the string in the palm of her hand (for that is how tiny it was) and meditated on it as if it were an image of the Buddha. And in a snap decision, she decided that she would wear it, hoping that like a talisman or a charm it would give her the courage and the confidence to do what she needed to do. What she wanted to do. And that was to remind Dante of how much he had lost when he abandoned her.

  There was to be no more lacrimosa for Beatrice.

  Chapter 9

  Lobby was an upscale martini bar and lounge on Bloor Street. Gabriel, in true Dantean fashion, always referred to the club as The Vestibule, because he deluded himself that its inhabitants resembled the virtuous pagans who spent eternity in Dante’s vision of Limbo. In reality, however, Lobby and its patrons had far more in common with the various circles of Hell.

  Gabriel did not want to bring Julianne there, let alone Rachel, for Lobby was his hunting ground, the place he always went to feed his hungers. Too many people knew him there, or knew of him, and he was afraid of what they might say—of what might slip unbidden from blood-red lips.

  But he felt comfortable at Lobby, confident that he could control the environment. There was no way in hell he was taking Rachel and Julianne into an environment that he could not control. For this one night, he would be Beowulf instead of Dante, warrior instead of poet. He would carry his sword unsheathed in his hand, and he would slay Grendel and all of his relatives if they even looked in the direction of his precious charges. Although he saw the sheer hypocrisy of it, he swallowed it whole to make Rachel happy.

  When Rachel and Julia dutifully followed him out of the cab and toward the front door of Lobby, they were met by a long line of people who were waiting to get into the club. Gabriel disdained the line and approached the bouncer, a large, bald African-Canadian, who wore diamonds in his ears. He shook Gabriel’s hand and greeted him formally. “Mr. Emerson.”

  “Ethan, I’d like you to meet my sister, Rachel, and her friend, Julianne.” Gabriel gestured to the young women, and Ethan smiled and nodded, stepping aside to let them in.

  “What was that about?” Julia whispered to Rachel as they entered a modern and tastefully decorated black-and-white space.

  “Gabriel is on the VIP list, apparently. Don’t ask.” Rachel wrinkled her nose.

  Gabriel led them to the back of the club, to an exclusive area he had reserved known as the White Lounge, imaginatively named because of its monochromatic decor. The two friends sat on a low, white banquette, lounging comfortably on the ermine covered cushions. From their perch, they could see the dance floor that was located like a hub at the entrances to the private lounges. At the moment, no one was dancing.

  Rachel gave her protégé an admiring glance. “Julia looks beautiful, doesn’t she, Gabriel? Really gorgeous.”

  Julia blushed an abnormal shade of crimson and began fidgeting with the hem of her dress. “Rachel, please,” she whispered.

  “What? Isn’t she beautiful?” Rachel frowned over at her brother, who was shooting her a warning glance.

  “You both look fine,” he said, admitting nothing and shifting his legs as if he were in pain.

  Julia shook her head minutely and cursed under her breath, wondering why she cared so much about his opinions and why it was so difficult for him to be nice. Next to her, Rachel shrugged. It was Gabriel’s money. And if he didn’t worry about throwing away almost two thousand dollars to make Julia look fine, who was she to object? Except that his obvious lack of enthusiasm was an indictment of her ability to elicit a reaction from him. So she rose to the challenge.

  “Hey, Julia…” she began, making sure Gabriel was listening and watching him out of the corner of her gray eyes, “how was your date with Paul?”

  Julia’s skin maintained its current shade of red. “It was very nice. He’s a real gentleman. Very old-f
ashioned.”

  She resisted the urge to turn to Gabriel to see if he was listening. She needn’t have bothered. Rachel was doing enough watching for both of them.

  “And he took you to dinner?”

  “Yes. To The Nataraj, his favorite Indian restaurant. Tomorrow he’s taking me to a double-feature at the Film Festival and afterward to Chinatown.”

  “Is he cute?”

  Julia squirmed. “If a rugby player could be termed cute. But he’s handsome and kind. He treats me like a princess.”

  “Angelfucker.”

  Rachel and Julia turned to Gabriel, not quite sure they heard what they thought they heard. Julia’s eyebrows went up, and frowning, she looked away.

  Satisfied that she’d provoked a reaction from her brother commensurate with his most recent infraction, Rachel turned in her seat to check her makeup in the mirror behind them. She was dabbing her rose-colored Chanel-coated lips when she suddenly stopped, staring at someone who was walking in their direction.

  “Gabriel, that woman is totally eye-fucking you! What the hell?”

  As if in response to Rachel’s exclamation, an artificially blond-haired waitress approached them immediately.

  “Mr. Emerson! It’s so good to see you again.” The waitress leaned down, exposing the top of her moderately endowed cleavage and resting a finely manicured hand on his shoulder, her coral-colored nails gleaming in the low light.

  Julia scowled in spite of herself and wondered if the waitress planned on doing something to Gabriel with those fingernails, or if she was just flashing them to scare other women away.

  The woman nodded at them. “My name is Alicia, and I’ll be your server.”

  “Start a tab for me please. Drinks for the three of us are on me and one for Ethan and yourself, of course.” Gabriel placed a folded bill in her hand, effectively freeing his shoulder from her touch.

  She smiled faintly and palmed it.

  “Ladies?” she asked, keeping her eyes fixed on Gabriel and smiling provocatively, the tip of her tongue just poking out between her coral-colored lips.

  “A Cosmo for me,” said Rachel.

  Julia froze.

  “What would you like?” Rachel nudged her.

  “I…don’t know,” Julia stammered, wondering what she could order that wouldn’t embarrass her. In a place like Lobby she couldn’t exactly order a beer or start doing shots of tequila, which were her usual poisons.

  “Two Cosmos, then.” Rachel turned back to her friend. “You’ll love them—they’re great.”

  “A double shot of Laphroaig twenty-five-year-old, neat, please. And ask the bartender for a small shot glass of spring water, non-sparkling,” Gabriel instructed without making eye contact with the waitress.

  The waitress left, and Rachel began to laugh. “Big brother, only you could make ordering a drink sound pretentious.”

  Julia giggled, if only because she liked the sight of Gabriel’s irritation at his sister’s characterization.

  “What’s Laphroaig?” she asked.

  “A single malt Scotch whisky.”

  “And the spring water?”

  “Just a drop or two to open up the taste. I’ll let you try it when it arrives.” He hazarded a small smile in her direction, and she turned away, looking down at her lovely shoes.

  He followed her gaze and found himself entranced by her beautiful high heels. Rachel had no idea how fine a purchase they’d been. It was worth every penny just to see Miss Mitchell’s lovely legs, arched and lengthened by those exquisite shoes. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, hoping the movement would successfully dislodge his advancing arousal from its current trap.

  It didn’t.

  “I guess you can wait for the drinks, Gabriel. Julia and I are going to dance.”

  Before Julia could protest, Rachel had pulled her onto the dance floor, motioned to the DJ for him to turn the music up, and proceeded to dance with enthusiasm.

  Julia, on the other hand, was uncomfortable. She could see that Gabriel had moved so that he could stare at her, leaning back on the banquette and watching, eyes intense and unblinking. She wondered if he’d noticed the fact that she wasn’t wearing traditional panties underneath her dress.

  Is that something men notice? Panty lines?

  She was unable to look away as his eyes leisurely smoothed over her from head to foot, resting longer than necessary on her shapely bare legs and her red-soled heels.

  “I can’t dance in these shoes,” Julia protested in her friend’s ear.

  “Bullshit. Just move your body and let your feet take a rest. And you look great, by the way. My brother is an idiot.”

  Julia turned her back on her professor and began to dance, closing her eyes and letting the music take her. It was a remarkable feeling. As soon as she forgot about him and his penetrating blue eyes, she was actually able to enjoy herself. Marginally.

  I wonder if he can see vestiges of my thong through the fabric of my dress. Scratch that. I hope he can see it. I hope it tortures him. Enjoy the view, Professor, because that’s all you’re ever going to get.

  When the song ended, Rachel approached the DJ with a smile, asking what his plans were for the next few musical choices. Whatever he said must have pleased her, because she pumped a fist in the air in a very unladylike manner and almost let out a yell.

  “Awesome!” she cried, crossing the floor to return to Julia, grabbing her hands and swinging her around.

  Now that Julia and Rachel were dancing (and obviously enjoying themselves), a number of people from various adjoining lounges decided to join them, including a very handsome blond-haired man.

  “Hi,” he offered, edging in closer to Julia and moving in time to the music.

  “Hi,” she managed, feeling somewhat conspicuous.

  She thought about that old line, about how women associate dancing with sex. This man, whoever he was, would no doubt be excellent at the latter, because he certainly very heterosexually excelled at the former. It was breathtaking, actually.

  “I haven’t seen you here before.” He smiled.

  Julia noticed he had very white teeth and that his eyes were bright blue, as blue as a cornflower. She momentarily forgot to answer him as she focused on the startling color of his eyes.

  “I’m Brad. What’s your name?” He leaned forward, his ear almost brushing against her lips in order to hear her response over the pulsing music.

  She blinked a little at his nearness. “Julia.”

  “Pleased to meet you, Julia. That’s a beautiful name.”

  She indicated that she’d heard him, and sent a desperate look to Rachel, hoping she would come to her rescue. But Rachel was too busy dancing with her eyes closed, because apparently she loved the current song.

  “Can I buy you a drink? My friends and I have a table up front.” He gestured vaguely, but Julia did not follow his gesture.

  “Thanks, but I’m with my friend.”

  He smiled, undeterred, and moved closer. “Bring your friend with you. You have the most beautiful eyes. I couldn’t live with myself if I let you get away and didn’t ask for your number.”

  “Um…I don’t know…”

  “Let me at least give you mine.”

  Julia’s eyes darted in Rachel’s direction, which was a bad decision because it prevented her from seeing Brad move toward her. She ended up stepping right on his toes, which made him wince in pain and pushed her off balance.

  He caught her before she hit the floor and held her close to his chest while she found her feet. She had to admit, he had a muscular chest, and surprisingly strong arms for someone who wore a suit.

  “Easy there, beautiful. I’m sorry I cut you off like that. Are you all right?” He kept his left hand on her arm and moved his right so that he could brush the curls out of her eyes. He looked down at her and smiled.

  “I’m fine. Thank you for not letting me fall.”

  “I’d be a fool to let you go, Julia.”

  She
noticed obliquely that his smile was not creepy. He seemed nice, even. His suit told her that he’d come to the club after work and that he probably worked downtown for a large company—someplace where they still demanded that young men wear suits and ties. And really shiny black shoes.

  He was confident, she thought, but not arrogant. And his words, though carefully chosen, did not seem calculated. He was, perhaps, the kind of person who she could imagine dating for a little while, but she doubted that they would have much in common. Certainly, dancing was not something she wanted to do again in the near future. Although dancing with him…

  She was far too shy to extend the conversation any further. She opened her mouth to speak her regrets, but just then someone grabbed her other arm and effectively body-checked Brad out of the way. Something sent a shock wave rippling across the surface of her skin, and she knew immediately whose long, cool fingers wrapped around her bare upper arm.

  “Are you all right?” Gabriel asked, speaking and looking only at Julia. His calm and concerned tone totally belied the inexplicable anger in his eyes.

  His anger confused her, so she didn’t answer. She looked dumbfounded, which Brad noticed immediately.

  “Is this asshole hurting you?” he asked, straightening his shoulders as he scowled at Gabriel. He made a move forward, looking rather menacing.

  Julia shook her head in response, still somewhat shocked.

  “She’s with me,” snarled Gabriel, not even bothering to turn his head in Brad’s direction.

  He retreated slightly, for Gabriel’s snarl was very fierce.

  “Come,” he commanded, pulling her away from the dance floor and back to their seats.

  Julia gave Brad an apologetic glance over her shoulder and left willingly.

  Gabriel handed her a drink as he tried to catch his breath. He was surprised at himself and his eagerness to come to Julia’s rescue before he’d even considered the repercussions.

  While she sipped her Cosmopolitan and tried to process what had just happened, Gabriel turned to her, clutching his now half-empty glass. “You need to be more careful. These places can be very dangerous for girls like you, and you, my dear, are a calamity waiting to happen.”